


Waiting For a Girl Like You

by aaahha



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15131219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaahha/pseuds/aaahha
Summary: The silence that followed was a little uncomfortable. Martin cleared his throat, but before he could change the subject Daniel shifted on the bed. “It’s just sex. There’s really not that much difference between straight sex and gay sex.”“Depends who’s taking it… I guess I never really thought about it, but I always got the impression you did the fucking.”Daniel breathed out audibly. “I’m pretty versatile. I like a bit of everything.” Something in his tone changed; his voice going an octave deeper.(Despite the title, this isn't het)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is about 5 years old, so the boys' ages will reflect that. I wrote all of it except the second to last part, which I've written now but am working on fitting its tone to the rest of this.
> 
> I still think this is one my best, so I decided to post it. (Originally it was on LJ under a different name)
> 
> I'm still working on Birthright.

He led the way down the hallway with Stacy just a step behind him, stopping only long enough to dig his keys out of his pocket and open the door to his apartment. They both went inside and for a moment, things were a little awkward. He hadn’t had a one night stand in a while and she didn’t appear to do this often either. Her movements were hesitant and she switched the position of her hands at least three times before he took one in his own and guided her further inside. 

Trying to squeeze down the narrow corridor at the same time, they bumped against each other and as he started to apologize to her, Stacy kissed him, her lips soft and pliant, not pushing, just exploring.

They kissed for a while, her hands wandering down the front of his jacket. It wasn’t much to feel; the layers between her hands and his body too thick, but his gut stirred all the same. Leading the way toward the bedroom, he opened the door and caught an eyeful of Daniel and Kels on his bed. Daniel was on his hands and knees pushing back against Kels, who was thrusting into him. They were both breathing hard, but Martin could only focus on Daniel; the panting sound coming from his open mouth, the tattoos on his back, his hair shiny with sweat. 

Kels turned toward him and Martin muttered a sorry, closing the door again. 

“Um,” he mumbled, the image of Daniel stuck in his head. The boys were quiet, but even though Stacy was standing to the side, she could’ve heard them. “The bed’s occupied at the moment. Maybe we should do this another time.”

She touched his arm. “It was nice meeting you.”

He offered to call her a cab and walked her to the door, but she said she’d rather take the subway. The nearest line was one of only a few that didn’t run past midnight, and the one closest that did, was about a fifteen minute walk from there. “I’ll walk you.”

Her smile was wide and earnest. “Why, Martin, you’re quite the gentleman.”

A chill hung in the air, but Martin was naturally warm most of the time and didn’t zip up his jacket until they’d walked about a block and a half. 

“I thought you lived alone,” Stacy said. 

“I do. Daniel recently broke up with his boyfriend and he’s been sleeping on my couch.”

“Your friend with the Mohawk?”

“Yeah,” Martin said, half smiling. The Mohawk had been a surprising conversation starter at the club earlier. It had been the first thing Kels said to Daniel after making a straight line for them just after walking in with his friends. _I like the Mohawk_ , he’d said. Daniel made some half-joke about Martin hating it out of jealousy, because he looked ridiculous with hair. Kels had blatantly checked Martin out, leant in and said _I’m a fan of the shaved look too_ and winked. 

Stacy had commented on it as well, though Martin suspected she’d not much cared about Daniel’s hair, but was merely being friendly. 

He walked her to the platform, thanked her for the evening and walked back home. 

When he returned to his place, it was almost 3 in the morning. Daniel was lying on the couch, one arm dangling off the side, the other buried under his pillow. His hair was wet – this time from a shower it seemed – and his breathing deep and even. He was asleep. 

Martin’s bedroom door was ajar but there was no sign of Kels. The window was open as well, the breeze pushing the venetian blinds back and forth with a subdued knock. 

Pulling his socks off, Martin sat down on the fresh sheets. It was strange; in his decade of friendship with Daniel, it was almost amazing Martin had never walked in on him before. That had to be why he was so surprised. 

Maybe that was also why he kept seeing it over and over in his head. Daniel with his hands out in front of him, head bowed down, small puffs of air leaving his mouth as he met every thrust. Daniel raising his head back up, eyes closed, his breathing coming out harsher, one of Kels’ hands moving from Daniel’s hip to jerk him off. 

Martin’s cock twitched, hardening. Fuck. He palmed himself through his jeans, but as the vision of Daniel flashed through his mind again, he dropped his hand. Why did it turn him on so much? 

He rolled onto his stomach and went to sleep, fully clothed. 

 

 

The next morning, Martin had just showered and was contemplating a mid-morning nap when there was a knock on his door and Daniel walked in.

A goofy grin stretched his lips. “Sorry I fucked in your bed.”

“I don’t care about that as long as you changed the sheets.”

Daniel threw himself down on his back on the other side of the bed and put an arm beneath his head. “Yeah. I figured you didn’t want to sleep in my come.” 

The silence that followed was a little uncomfortable. Martin cleared his throat, but before he could change the subject Daniel shifted on the bed. “It’s just sex. There’s really not that much difference between straight sex and gay sex.”

“Depends who’s taking it… I guess I never really thought about it, but I always got the impression you did the fucking.”

Daniel breathed out audibly. “I’m pretty versatile. I like a bit of everything.” Something in his tone changed; his voice going an octave deeper. It was kind of hot. “I like cock. I like sucking it. I like getting mine sucked. I like fucking.” His breath hitched so slightly Martin almost didn’t hear it. “I like getting fucked.”

Martin was hard. If it was any other man telling him this, Martin was sure it wouldn’t have had the same effect on him.

“I like being rimmed.”

Martin snaked his hand down his body, palming his hard cock through his boxers. “How does that feel?” His voice came out hoarse.

“Feels good – feels great. Warm and wet. It’s exciting.” Daniel’s hand rubbed over his clothed stomach, heading lower. “If I get fucked afterwards, I almost always come twice as hard.” He drew in a quiet breath. “Just talking about it is making me hard.”

Martin swallowed. “Me too.”

They were both breathing through their noses, just a little louder than normal, rubbing a hand over their respective bulges.

“Keep talking,” Martin said. He’d never noticed how sexy Daniel’s voice could be.

“You ever fucked a virgin?” 

His dick throbbed and he was warm all over. “Not since I was one.”

“That guy I was with last night,” he said. “I was his first.” He unzipped his jeans. “About five years ago.”

Martin’s breath caught in his nose. 

“I had to work just to get my fingers in him and get him properly lubed up.” Martin caught sight of Daniel’s hard cock and his hand working over it slowly.

He pulled his own cock out of his boxers. It was already slick with pre-come. He could picture everything Daniel said so clearly it was as if he was actually seeing it.

“When I stuck it in his ass, he was so fucking tight and warm.” He stroked himself faster; Martin could hear the slickness of his hand sliding up and down his length. “He was lying under me. He made this—” his breath came out harder, “sound; almost a whimper and he arched his back and took me in deeper.” Another deep exhale as his hand worked even faster. “It was so fucking hot.”

Martin’s hand pumped harder and he thrust his hips up to fuck his fist. He turned his head and looked at Daniel’s face in the limited light.

His eyes were on Martin’s, his bottom lip wet and swollen from his repeated licks over it. He licked his lips again and an urge to have Daniel’s mouth on him came over Martin. The thought sent him over the edge, his breathing hard as he jerked himself off with a frenzied pace, until he came, right before Daniel. He milked himself all over his hand and watched Daniel do the same. 

Daniel licked his fingers and hand dry. Martin watched fascinated and was about to wipe his on his boxers when Daniel leaned over and took his fingers in his mouth, his tongue gliding over them and between, tasting his come.

Their eyes locked. A moment later Daniel stood up, casual as ever, and left the room. Martin’s haze lifted. What the fuck just happened?


	2. Chapter Two

After waking from his nap, Martin brushed his teeth – he had a little run-in with Daniel’s box of dailies that came crashing down at him when he opened the bathroom mirror cabinet – then braced himself for whatever awaited him in the kitchen. That morning had been so weird, but he’d known Daniel for too long to let his currently nonexistent sex life get in the way of their friendship.

When Martin stepped into the kitchen, coming face to face with Daniel in the small space, he couldn’t think of anything to say that might restore the balance between them. 

A smile stretched across Daniel’s lips. “Hung over?”

Martin shrugged. He hadn’t had much to drink the night before, but if he could blame their little circle jerk that morning on a hangover, he wasn’t going to think twice about it. “Better now. You?”

Daniel nodded. “I’m good.” 

The buzzer rang and a stiffness he hadn’t noticed uncoiled from Martin’s shoulders. “Hello?” he spoke into the intercom.

“Hey, it’s Antonio.”

Daniel’s head shot up from where he stood spreading butter on his bread. 

“Yeah. Come on up.” He pressed ‘open’ and glanced at Daniel. “So... your ex-partner.” His nerves were back doing silly things like making him aware of his own breathing. “Why does that sound weird?”

Daniel shrugged, but the frown on his face kept it from looking as casual as it could’ve. “I don’t like that word. It’s so clinical. Businesslike. Passionless.”

“Alright, your ex boyfriend, then. Sounds to me like you’re twelve, but if you’re more on board with that--”

“Why does it sound like I’m twelve?” He waved the bread in his hand and dumped the knife in the sink. “Six months ago, you had a girlfriend, did that make you sound like you were twelve?”

“Point taken.” The doorbell rang and Martin pointed toward the door. “I’ll just let him in.”

Antonio wore jeans and a blazer and his badge was hanging around his neck. “Hey. Daniel here?”

“In the kitchen.” Martin pointed inside, and opened the door all the way. He’d just closed the door when it started. 

“The transfer went through,” Antonio said. “I’m working anti-crime now.”

“Congratulations.” Daniel sounded anything but happy for him. “I guess now I’m supposed to think it was fine that you want to hide, right? Because your endgame was always anti-crime and now you have it.”

“I didn’t come here to justify myself.” Antonio tossed a key onto the breakfast bar. “Since I told you a million times to pick up your shit and you never did, I put it in storage. Paid the rent, so you owe me 200 bucks.”

Daniel huffed. “I don’t have 200 bucks.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you made me do it.”

“I didn’t make you do anything.”

“Well, I’m not paying for it.”

“You already did.”

“Guys, guys,” Martin said. He grabbed his wallet off the coffee table. “Here’s... 150. And we’ll call it even.” 

The money crinkled as he handed over to Antonio, and the other man pocketed it. “Once again, Martin bails you out.”

It was going to turn ugly anyway. Martin wasn’t sticking around for that. He had laundry to do. He grabbed the basket from his bedroom floor. It wasn’t even half-full. He might as well wash Daniel’s clothes with his and not leave them strewn across the living room floor. 

“What do you care who bails me out or why? I don’t have your money, and you got it anyway. You should be happy with that.”

Grabbing a handful of quarters from the shelf next to the TV, Martin hurried out the door. 

The wash cycle on the coin-operated machine had just started when Daniel found him in the building’s laundry room. He sat on top of one of the dryers. Stayed quiet while Martin sorted the laundry in the basket. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I know it makes you uncomfortable when people fight.”

Martin shrugged, balling and un-balling a pair of dirty black socks. “I thought it made everyone uncomfortable.”

“Not exactly.” Martin shot him an arched eyebrow. “I mean I wouldn’t say I enjoy it, but life without a few arguments isn’t nearly as fun.”

Martin breathed a laugh. “How do you figure?”

“I like getting worked up about stuff, even if it’s not always in a positive way. Makes life interesting.” He rolled back his shoulders. “Thanks for paying.”

“No problem.”

 

 

They’d been sitting at the bar for over an hour. Or rather, Daniel was sitting, while Martin was behind the counter working. Rock music sounded from the speakers, the volume loud enough to hear in the background, even when they were at their busiest, but they hadn’t been in a while.

“Mm.” Daniel swallowed. He waved his empty bottle. “Another one.”

Glad that the weirdness was behind them, Martin chuckled. “I just gave you that one.” He wiped the sticky bar table down with a wet rag.

Daniel smirked. “Well, it’s gone now.” He wasn’t drunk yet, but evidently he was working on it. 

“Okay.” He opened another bottle and made as if to hand it over to Daniel, but pulled it back at the last second. “I’m not carrying you home.”

“Don’t be grouchy. I don’t plan on going home with you anyway.”

Martin placed the bottle on the table and poked Daniel in the shoulder. “You got laid last night.”

“And I’m going to get laid tonight.” He leaned closer, his face mere inches from Martin’s. “Jealous?” His voice was raspy and low.

“Only because you cock-blocked me.” 

Daniel sat back and took a sip. “I made up for that this morning, didn’t I?”

The memory of the morning’s activities sharpened in his mind. Martin straightened. The imbalance was back. Daniel’s eyes stared into his and Martin’s heart beat in his chest. Daniel’s lips curved upward.

Martin sighed and the moment diffused. 

He was serving drinks to a trio of young women when a man walked in. Daniel glanced him over. “That’s him.”

“Who?” Martin said, as he made a Cosmo for one of the ladies. 

“That’s who I’m going home with tonight.”

Too much cranberry juice. “Yeah? Did your gaydar ping when he walked in?” Martin poured a little more triple sec, a little more vodka and added the lime juice, then gave the cocktail a good shake. And trusted to fate. 

Daniel glanced at the other end of the bar where Wendy was handing the man a beer. “Something pinged alright.”

“Okay, but don’t get yourself in trouble by hitting on the wrong straight guy.” 

“By wrong, do you mean not you?”

Martin handed the women their drinks. Then he rounded on Daniel. “I don’t mind you hitting on me, you’ve been doing it off and on since we met. But don’t think it means anything.”

“Of course it doesn’t.” The playfulness in his voice was gone. “I never thought it did.” He downed the rest of his beer and stood. He took a step away and Martin grasped him by the forearm. 

“Hey,” Martin said, gentler now. “Before you go rebounding all over the place, I think we should establish some rules.”

Daniel made a face. “Rules?”

“More like guidelines. Just so neither of us walks in on the other.” He let go of Daniel’s arm. “Again.”

“You could always just watch.” His voice was deeper, his smile the same little goofy one from that morning. 

Nothing came out of Martin’s mouth when he opened it. Not even a breath.

Daniel patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, Martin. I still like you best.” Before Martin could see it coming, Daniel swooped in and pressed his damp lips to Martin’s. It was over before it even registered. A quick glance around assured him no one was paying them any attention. His lips tickled. Since when did Daniel kiss him? 

Daniel was already halfway toward the other end of the bar where the guy stood. Martin stole another glance at them and went back to work. 

When he looked up less than a minute later, they were talking. The time after that, they were gone.


	3. Chapter Three

Maybe it was the fact that Martin was naked save for the towel wrapped around his waist or maybe the bathroom really was as tiny as it felt when Daniel came swaggering in to wash the paint off his hands. 

“Hey,” Daniel said and Martin didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered. 

Martin’s hands twitched and he tried not to squirm. It was no big deal. They’d been in this situation a dozen times before. They were comfortable with each other. “I thought you were going to be at the studio all day.” He reached for his deodorant in the cabinet, mostly just for something to do with his hands. 

Daniel bent over the sink, scrubbing his hands under the spray of water. “Yeah, but I didn’t have to. I finished my last painting and am all set for the show tomorrow night.” He turned the water off. 

Martin handed Daniel a towel. “Want to celebrate? I could go for a beer. The good kind, not the American shit.”

“Sure.” He held his gaze. Cleared his throat and looked at his hands as he dried them. “I got paid at the diner today so I left some money on the coffee table. For the storage space and food and stuff.” He still put the towel back. “I’ve been preparing for the art show and haven’t been able to pick up that many shifts, so it’s not that much.”

“That’s fine. You know you can pay me back anytime. You don’t have to do it now.”

“I plan to sell some of my stuff, so now’s good.”

Now that Daniel was no longer looking at him, Martin breathed easier. He bumped his shoulder with Daniel’s. “You don’t mean like a kidney, do you?”

Daniel chuckled. “No. Paintings. I mean I know it won’t happen tomorrow, but the gallery’s going to show my stuff for a month, so I’m going to be optimistic that I’ll sell something. Especially since they’re showing my stuff with Floyd’s. I’m better than he is.”

Martin snorted and grinned. “Not at being modest, you’re not.”

“Who’s talking about modesty? I’m talking about art.”

And maybe he had a point there. Martin didn’t know good art from bad, but somehow he doubted modesty improved it much. Art that connected with you on a personal level, something expressive, sometimes in a subtle ways you couldn’t quite pinpoint, that was Daniel’s work. Full of different moods. 

 

 

After opening two beers, Martin took a seat at the kitchen table instead of the couch to create a bit of distance between them. Daniel took a seat on the opposite side. No one sat side by side at a dinner table – it was just weird. 

“So what’s the plan tonight? Going out to pick up rebound number twenty-three?” It came out a little rough. He’d meant for it to be good-natured ribbing – no one was more promiscuous than Daniel on the rebound – but somewhere between his brain and his mouth, he sounded well... jealous. 

Daniel shrugged and shook his head. “Nah. And I think it’s four, not twenty-three.” His lips curved into a full smile and the cold bottle of beer in Martin’s hand was suddenly very interesting. 

He’d read the label three times over when Daniel rose from his chair opposite Martin. “Where are you going?”

“Couch.” Daniel hooked his thumb over his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong with sitting here?”

“Nothing. I just thought I’d watch some TV.” His brow furrowed. “Is something bothering you? You seem a little off.”

The label ripped when Martin tried to pluck it off. “No. Nothing’s bothering me.”

“’Cause you know I was kidding about you watching.”

Martin huffed out a breath. “I know that.” He probably shouldn’t have looked up. When he did it was just in time to see Daniel smirk. 

“Unless you’re into that,” he said, his voice low.

 

 

About an hour and another beer later, they were still in the kitchen, despite Daniel’s intention to move into the living room. Martin stood in the corner of the kitchen unit, while Daniel got beers from the fridge. He placed them on the counter next to the fridge and came toward Martin, a little half-smile on his face. 

Martin’s gaze caught his. The smile stretched wider. “What?” he said. 

“Nothing.” Still Daniel came closer, trapping Martin between him and the counter. “What are you doing?” He said, his voice low. 

Daniel’s eyes wandered to Martin’s lips, before he turned away. “Getting a bottle opener.” His voice sounded deeper. The drawer to Martin’s left was open, Daniel’s hand digging inside. 

The bottle rattled on the kitchen counter when Daniel opened it. Soft fingertips brushed against Martin’s when he handed it over. 

Martin swallowed down a big gulp. He was overreacting. He knew he was. The lingering looks, the accidental touches. It was nothing. He just noticed because he was looking. Why the hell was he looking? Damn him for catching Daniel and Kels in bed. Damn Daniel for that stupid monologue about how much he liked gay sex. 

Daniel cornered him again to put the bottle opener back. He smelt woodsy and warm and before he’d even thought about it Martin leant in, almost closing the distance between them, so close their noses grazed. Daniel’s eyes darted toward Martin’s lips again, chest rising and falling with every breath. 

The cold bottle sweating in his hand, it nearly slipped out of his grasp. He caught it before it fell and it was like he regained his senses. He took a quick step back. Tried for casual as he leant back against the countertop and finished the rest of his beer. “So are we going out tonight or what?” 

Daniel stared at him for a second. Looked away and lifted one shoulder. “Don’t think I should. Don’t want to be hung over for my show tomorrow.” He took a single sip of his just opened beer, then placed it back on the counter. “Good night, Martin.” His smile looked off somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parts for this were short back when I first posted this on LJ, and I could have consolidated them but they were in separate documents and it was just easier this way.


	4. Chapter Four

Martin awoke to the muffled sound of cabinets opening and closing. It took him twenty minutes to get out of bed and toss on something more than the boxers he was wearing, but he knew that at some point he’d have to go out there. 

He hadn’t actually kissed Daniel. He’d come within an inch of doing it, and there was really no way to pretend otherwise, but at least if things were weird – and they had been since that morning when he’d jerked off to Daniel’s sexy story and seductive voice – there was still a way back. They were still friends. They were still _only_ friends. 

The living room was spotless. The couch wasn’t a mess. The ugly old comfortable blanket didn’t lay in a heap on top of the pillow and Daniel’s duffle bag was zipped closed. None of his clothes were lying around in piles here and there. 

A smoky smell of bacon wafted through the air and Martin’s stomach grumbled. He plopped down on his chair in the kitchen. “What’s up?”

Daniel didn’t turn around, but shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. Just hungry.” 

Getting up only to pour himself a glass of orange juice, Martin surveyed the living room again. Daniel wasn’t exactly messy, but he was rarely this neat either. “You moving out?” The situation wasn’t perfect but he didn’t want Daniel to leave.

Another shrug. 

“Can you talk in actual sentences, ‘cause I’m having a hard time following?”

This time, he did turn around. The skin around his eyes was pinched, his shoulders dropped an inch or two, but nothing else indicated what kind of mood he might be in. There were no hints as to why the sudden change of heart either. “I’m not moving out.” 

Eyes still fixed on Daniel, Martin sat back down. “Okay,” he said, dragging the last syllable out. He scratched the side of his neck. “So... you’re not moving out, but you’ve packed up and made breakfast?”

Daniel released a puff of air, loud enough that it was audible to Martin. “Yeah. Why?”

It wasn’t like him to be so aloof. Martin’s eyebrows squished together. What was going on? “No reason.”

Breakfast was much the same. Daniel sat down opposite Martin and while Martin felt wired and weird, Daniel sat back flipping through the paper as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Except Martin had never known him to be interested in the news. 

Martin swallowed down a mouthful and cleared his throat. “You ready for the show tonight?” 

“Yep.”

They were both silent for a beat, the hum of the refrigerator and cutlery scraping against plates the only sounds between them. “Good.” Martin downed the rest of his orange juice. 

 

 

About an hour before Daniel was due at the gallery, Martin stood huddled over the sink in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. They hadn’t interacted much throughout the day. Martin had hid behind chores, cleaning up in the kitchen after breakfast, making the bed and airing out the living room. So when Daniel came busting into the bathroom in snug light blue jeans and a black wife beater, a black and red shirt hanging from his fingertips, Martin allowed himself a moment to look. 

Daniel’s tattoos were exquisite. The bursts of colors amid all the black, none of it random. Martin had always thought they looked good, but looking at him now, the man seemed like a work of art himself. An artist and his own painting. His pale skin his biggest and best canvas.

One corner of his mouth twitched upward. “What?”

Martin swung back around and spat in the sink. He’d been staring. Jesus fucking Christ, this stupid want that twisted inside him was getting old. 

The door creaked shut. Martin rinsed and spat again. Wiped his mouth and turned around. Daniel’s chin dipped, approaching his chest. He looked down at his fingers working the buttons of his plaid shirt and Martin needed only a single step to close the distance between them. He bent his head, both hands coming up on either side of Daniel’s long neck. Leant forward and captured Daniel’s mouth under his. 

Daniel’s lips parted with a soft breath. His shirt still half-buttoned, their bodies pressed together. _Weird_ was the only word for it; Daniel’s body hard where Martin was used to softer curves, the press of his mouth on Martin’s insistent. Maybe it wasn’t the only word, even though it was the first that raced through Martin’s head, quickly getting buried under half-thoughts like _more_ and _good_ and _fuck_. More pressing. Martin’s skin burning. 

They broke apart and breathed the air separating them.

“Did you get it out of your system?” Daniel’s voice was low and hoarse, his hooded eyes searching Martin’s. His hands still rested on his shoulders, a mere three inches of space between them.

Martin was playing catch-up, too preoccupied attempting to sort out the implications of what had just happened. “Get what out of my system?”

“Me. Whatever this is. Has been. Lately.” 

Martin blinked, still behind on current events. “I’m not...” If not that, then what was this? This _thing_ between them that had been hanging over them like an unwanted blanket on a hot night, if not something Martin inadvertently bit into him. He was too old to be curious. To experiment. “I don’t know.”

Daniel nodded, his touch leaving Martin and he cast his eyes down to finish buttoning his shirt. “Maybe you should figure it out.”


	5. Chapter Five

They didn’t talk before they left for the gallery and didn’t talk once there either. Daniel was all harsh frowns and rigid shoulders, and Martin avoided the confrontation he was certain would find them eventually. 

The gallery was tiny – both in size and in influence – and within ten minutes of the show’s opening, Martin got the sinking feeling that it wasn’t Daniel’s big break. Martin glanced back at him. Watched him shake hands with the handful of people who’d bothered to come see his work – and Floyd’s. Daniel had worked so hard for this. Waiting tables at the diner between stints of painting in his overpriced studio space, it didn’t seem fair that he still hadn’t gotten his foot in the door.

Martin wandered around the well-lit space, surveying the artwork. Painting after painting, until he stopped keeping track of the time, vaguely aware of Daniel’s eyes on him once or twice. 

They didn’t speak until after the show. Standing on the asphalt shimmering from the recent rain, the not-so-distant bustle of traffic not enough to stop Martin from voicing his thoughts.

“I’m not gay,” he said and peered up at the overcast night sky. The wind was barely blowing.

Daniel laughed, though it didn’t sound anything like it should’ve. “So straight guys eye-fuck their best friends often?”

“You started it.” The kneejerk reaction made him feel like a child. He hated fighting. 

“I started it ten years ago. Why’s it suddenly relevant now?” He turned his gaze on Martin, his stare as fierce as the downward curve of his mouth. 

“I don’t know.” He exhaled, averted his eyes. “It was you and Kels. And that morning and that fucking story you told me. I don’t know.” It was all so unlike Martin. He liked comfort, predictability. Curiosity wasn’t something he did, why start now? “I’m not gay.” 

Daniel sidled closer until he stood in front of him, just within reach. Leant in just a little bit. “Then you probably shouldn’t have kissed me.” 

The scent of sandalwood and champagne mixed in Martin’s nose and if Martin just took one step forward he could’ve had Daniel’s pink mouth under his. He tore his gaze off Daniel’s lips and found himself pinned beneath Daniel’s stare. 

The corner of Daniel’s mouth twitched downward. He huffed and turned on his heel, jerking his arm out. “Why are you fucking with my head?”

“I’m not.” His voice scratched against his throat. “I can’t explain.”

Finally the cab pulled up. Daniel flagged it down and got in before Martin dared qualify his statement further. The night felt endless. 

The 15-minute car ride to the apartment seemed like hours. When the cab stopped outside Martin’s building, Daniel pulled a few crumpled bills out of his pocket, but Martin already had his wallet out and open.

“It’s fine. I’ve got this.”

Daniel huffed. “I can pay for the fucking cab.” He pressed the wrinkled wad into the cabbie’s waiting hands. Then strode off into the building. 

Martin had one foot out when the cabbie called to him.

“Sir,” he said, a strong foreign accent mangling the word. He made a pained face. “Your friend was two dollars short.”

Martin handed him a fiver and followed after Daniel. 

He caught up with him just outside the door to Martin’s place. “Why are you so mad?” He unlocked and opened the door.

Daniel brushed past him. “You don’t even know what you’re doing.” He let his head fell back against the wall and slid his shoes off. 

Martin couldn’t help but watch him. His eyes were closed and he didn’t sound pissed off anymore. His face was a blank freckled sheet, and if it weren’t for the downward tug at the corner of his mouth, he would’ve looked calm. It made Martin’s chest ache. 

“Daniel.” When Daniel’s eyes flicked open, Martin realized how close he stood. It was as if the man had his own gravitational pull, because Martin couldn’t remember having moved at all.

Daniel blinked. Then dove forward and captured Martin’s mouth under his. 

Martin might’ve made some sound before crowding Daniel against the wall, but it was hard to tell over the rush of blood to his extremities. His lips parted and Martin licked his way into Daniel’s mouth, pressing into him further, until there was nothing between them but the air and their clothes.

He’d never cared for champagne – it gave him awful migraines – but he didn’t mind the bitter taste of it on Daniel’s tongue. He pushed his hands inside Daniel’s jacket, trying to rid him of it, reluctant to part with his lips.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” Daniel repeated, less resigned this time. More out of breath and wanting. He flung his jacket off and they were kissing again. Their hands grasped at each other, Martin’s heart thrumming in his chest. “Fuck, I want this so bad.” Daniel’s throaty voice sent warmth pooling in Martin’s gut. He mouthed Martin’s jaw, hot and damp. “I jerked off thinking about this. Thought about this when Kels was fucking me. I could smell you on your bed.”

Daniel palmed him through his jeans. “Wanted to suck you.” He licked and nipped at the column of Martin’s throat. And it just came pouring out of him. “I love a big cock. Love the way it feels in my mouth. On my tongue.” 

Martin groaned, fisting his hand in Daniel’s short hair. He’d dated a couple of women who talked dirty as easily as that, and it was as much of a turn on now as it had been then, even though Daniel was the wrong gender. Even though the breathy voice was deeper, the body taller, made of lean muscle. Daniel’s hand slid under Martin’s shirt, pushing it up, blunt fingernails dragging against his skin.

His tongue flicked out over Martin’s nipple. “Inside me. Fucking me. Hard and fast. Or slow and steady.” Daniel’s teeth grazed the skin on Martin’s chest, hand cupped over Martin’s hardening cock. “Do you want to fuck me, Martin?”

“Yeah.” His voice was a mere breath. 

His tongue glided over the skin on his stomach, leaving a hot, wet trail. “Tell me.”

Martin licked his swollen lips. Looked down, watched Daniel stare back. “I want to fuck you.” 

Daniel used both hands to cup him through the denim and he kneeled in front of him. Martin’s cock so hard and throbbing, it bordered on painful. The belt came undone and then the jeans and finally his boxers came down and Martin’s cock sprung free. Daniel’s warm mouth enveloped the tip and the back of Martin’s head hit the wall with a thud. His hands grasped Daniel’s Mohawk. 

The combination of Daniel’s eager mouth and skilled hands worked him to the edge in little time, only to slow down too soon. Martin pried his eyes open, watched Daniel stroke his slick cock up and down. His swollen lips glistened with saliva and pre-come. He kept their eyes locked and took him in his mouth again. 

He brought him near climax again and stopped. Undressed on his way to the bedroom, Martin trailing behind him.

Martin fucked him open with two fingers. Then three. 

“Just do it. I won’t fucking break.” Naked on all fours, Daniel turned his head awkwardly to command Martin, his cheeks flushed. He drew in a sharp breath when Martin pushed inside him, sinking in inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. So hot and tight. Martin had to will himself not to move. 

“No, keep going,” Daniel said, voice low and half-choked. “I don’t care if it burns.”

Martin moved. The slick sound it made zipped low in his gut. Daniel’s breathing turned raspy and he rocked underneath Martin. 

Martin wasn’t much of a talker during sex. But twice, Daniel had brought him to the brink and back, and once Martin set a steady rhythm, he pressed his face into the back of Daniel’s shoulder and just started babbling. “You’re so tight,” he said, tasting sweat on Daniel’s damp skin. Brushed his palm down Daniel’s inked side. “You’re gorgeous like this.” His brain had switched off, except for the most primal part, and the snap of his hips came quicker. “Dirty and sweaty and taking all of me.”

Panting, Daniel grabbed his neglected cock and started stroking. 

“Love the way you feel around me,” Martin mumbled, breathless, pressing sloppy kisses to Daniel’s shoulder, thrusting harder. Daniel inhaled sharply, his muscles going rigid and Martin babbled on. “Feels so good. So hot. So tight.” Another broken breath and Daniel was coming all over the bed with a strangled groan. He clenched around Martin’s cock.

Hips bucking wildly, Martin came a few seconds later. 

He pulled out, left to toss the condom in the trash and when he came back to the bedroom – the musky smell of sex much stronger than a second before – Daniel had thrown the bedspread to the floor, stretched out on his stomach over half the bed and was either close to or already asleep. 

Martin pulled on a clean pair of underwear and lied down on the other side of him. 

It took three minutes for the panic to set in.


	6. Chapter Six

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He crawled back out of bed, the walls closing in around him. Daniel’s jeans lay in a heap on the floor outside the bedroom. Martin carefully sidestepped them, only to find his shirt littering the hallway. Pushing away the image that came to him, he made his escape into the bathroom to grab a shower – the stink of sex clinging to him like a second skin – and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His thick lips fatter still and cheeks a fading pink. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled. 

The cool shower did nothing to calm the unease ripping into his gut. 

Jesus. He’d fucked Daniel. His definitely _male_ and probably closest friend. Martin’s throat constricted and he drew in a shaky breath. Fuck. How could this even happen? He was straight. He liked women. Breasts that fit into his hands; silky thighs that wrapped around his waist. Not dick. Not hard pecs and hairy legs. Not once in the slew of times men had hit on him – when Daniel dragged him out to play wingman – had he ever even thought about it. 

He curled up on the couch, the TV providing minimal distraction until he fell asleep.

Roused to a hand on his shoulder and a soft _hey_ , Martin’s eyes opened to the blue light of early morning. “Time is it?” he croaked.

“Six. What are you doing out here?”

The auto timer on the flat screen must have shut it off sometime in the night. “Watching TV. Fell asleep.” The ratty blanket was only pulled as high as his waist and Martin felt exposed under Daniel’s eyes. Ridiculous, considering his cock had been in his mouth. In his ass. Shit. That was not a thought he wanted in his head. 

Daniel’s lips curved into a smile and Martin tried not to think anything at all. His head too foggy with sleep to be able to handle it. “You’d probably sleep better in bed.” He squinted and blinked.

It made Martin blink in reflex. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Forgot to take my contacts out. Feels like there’s sand in my eyes.”

It felt like there was sand in Martin’s eyes too, but in an entirely different way. He needed Daniel to get away from him, so he could think. But right now all he wanted was the blissful peace of slumber. “I’m going back to sleep now,” he mumbled, rolling over.

Daniel chuckled. “Okay. I’m going to work, so I’ll see you later.”

Martin pretended to have already fallen back asleep. 

 

 

Two-thirty on a Sunday was not a busy time for the bar. A couple of tourists sat in a booth, nursing drinks, but Shorty’s was more of a neighborhood pub than anything else. Things would pick up later. 

Martin carried a keg from the back room. He didn’t quite feel like the world was upside down anymore, but that didn’t mean it was right side up either. Had the memory of last night not been so vivid, he might not have believed he’d done anything at all. 

“Wendy,” he said, connecting the coupler to the keg. “Have you ever been attracted to a woman?”

The clink of beer bottles in the fridge momentarily stopped. “You men and that fantasy,” she said and the clanging returned. 

Martin grinned, despite himself. Pulled the valve to let the gas flow into the airspace of the keg to keep it cool. “I’m not collecting images for the spank bank. I’m just curious.” Wendy was a couple of years older than him and married. Straight. Maybe she had some answers that would help.

“No.” The cooler door clicked shut. Martin fiddled with the tubes so he wouldn’t have to look up and find her studying him. “I recognize a beautiful woman when I see one, but I’ve never wanted a woman. One of my girlfriends had a lesbian experience in college, but I think that was more about herself than the woman she experimented with.” The sound of her voice was closer now and Martin had to stop his pretence of being busy and find something else to do. “Why do you ask?”

Last night had not been about himself any more than it had been about Daniel. Try as he might to deny it, Martin had wanted him. He swallowed, light-headed, and forced his limbs to relax. “No reason. Just trying to understand.”

“You should ask your friend Daniel,” Wendy said and took a beer glass from the plastic dishwashing tray. “He’s definitely attracted to men.”

“He’s gay,” Martin said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It doesn’t count.”

Less than an hour later, Daniel came sliding into the bar, all loose limbs and tired smile. “Hey. I need your keys.”

This was how they’d done it for the five weeks Daniel had been living on his couch. Martin’s keys split between the two of them. But the implication seemed different now. It made Martin want to squirm and refuse to meet Daniel’s eyes.

Daniel made a quick survey of their surroundings, then leaned in close. Licked his lips. “Listen, last night—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He kept his tone even. “Not now.”

Daniel nodded, smile gone. “Okay. I know it’s not—”

“I told you to drop it.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans, his neck burning when he realized Daniel’s gaze was fixed on his movements. Fished the keys out and shoved them into Daniel’s hand. “Now go. Take a nap; take a shower. I don’t care. Just don’t stay here, alright?”

 

 

It was after ten when Martin came home that night. Daniel buzzed him in downstairs, but the apartment door was unlocked. Martin locked it, slid his jacket off and hung it up. Toed his shoes off. In no rush to face Daniel, but there was only so long he could lounge in the hallway before it became cowardly. 

“Your keys are on the breakfast bar,” Daniel said. “There’s Chinese in the fridge.”

Martin wasn’t hungry. Still he grabbed the container with the leftover egg noodles and sat down on the couch. A rerun of Community was on NBC, and Martin only ever took his eyes off the TV to look at his food. 

Neither of them spoke for a long while, the silence heavy and threatening. 

Daniel glanced at him. “Things don’t have to be awkward—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Martin stood up, turned toward Daniel. “Why are you pushing me?”

“You need to talk about it to deal with it.”

Martin bade his arms out, took a step away. Then another and yet another. “There’s nothing to deal with. You wanted it, I gave it to you. It’s not happening again.”

“Is that why you can’t look at me?” Daniel’s voice was ugly, mocking. “Because you were the big hero doing me a favor? The pathetic fag who wanted you so bad for so long? Why can’t you admit you wanted it too?”

“I didn’t.”

“Maybe I took the initiative last night, but that was after days of you watching me, almost kissing me, actually kissing me. _You_ kissed _me_. You can’t tell me you didn’t want me. I know you did.”

“I know you’re a cock-hungry slut, but I don’t do this.” He stomped into his room and slammed the door.


	7. Chapter Seven

For the following days, nothing changed. Daniel was back to working full time – the show opening over and no buyers for his work yet – and on the few occasions when they were both home they were polite but distant. Never saying more than they had to. 

When Friday rolled around, Martin was glad to have the place to himself. He parked himself in front of the TV and had a couple of beers over an action flick. An evening not unlike ones he used to have before Daniel had broken up with Antonio and taken up residence on Martin’s couch. Somehow it wasn’t the same. Martin packed it in at midnight, brushed his teeth and went to bed. 

His bedroom was cool and comfortable, but sleep wouldn’t come. He’d turned over for the fifth time when the buzzer went. Sighing, Martin tossed the covers off, threw on some shorts and T-shirt, and strode to the intercom. 

“What?”

Cars whizzed past. “It’s Antonio. Daniel’s locked out.”

Martin was tempted not to let them in. What the hell was Daniel doing bringing his ex here? “Can’t you go back to your place?” he muttered, tugging at a loose thread at the hem of his T-shirt, cringing at the rip that sounded in his ears.

“Whatever it is you guys are fighting about, keep me out of it. I’m just dropping Daniel off before he gets himself arrested.”

Daniel made some sort of protest but Martin couldn’t hear what it was. He unclenched his shoulders and buzzed them in. Took his time padding to the door. Lingered in the doorway, almost despite himself.  
“Stop it.” Daniel’s voice echoed in the hallway. “I’m not a rebellious teenager.” The sound of his footsteps sped up, loud enough that Martin barely heard Antonio’s _really? Could’ve fooled me_. Two heartbeats later, Daniel stood in front of Martin. He glared down the hallway, before meeting Martin’s eyes. “Apparently, it’s a crime to go into a club now.”  
“It is when you're eyeing the bouncer like you’re gearing up for a fight,” Antonio said, walking up. “That guy was huge. You would’ve had your ass handed to you.”

Daniel crouched down and yanked at his shoelaces. “I don’t need any more people doing me favors, alright?” Tossing his shoes aside, he stood up. “Just leave me alone. Both of you.”

Martin watched him tread out of sight. 

Antonio’s sigh drew Martin’s attention back to him. “I always thought he never gave you the drama act. Used to envy you for it too.” He pulled back from the open door. “Guess I was wrong. Used to think you didn’t really fight either.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a half a smile. “Guess I was wrong about that too. What the fuck did you fight about?”

Martin had never liked him less. Though his stomach twisted briefly at the thought that maybe Antonio _knew_ , Martin doubted he’d be attempting friendliness if he did. Besides, on the intercom he’d implied he didn’t know what the fight was about.

“Nothing that concerns you.” 

Antonio held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender, but the half-smile still tugged at his lips. “Alright. Jeez. None of my business, clearly.”

Martin rattled off a quick goodbye and shut the door.

The only light in the living room came from a streetlamp shining through the half-open curtains. Martin loitered at the bedroom door, his eyes finding his bare feet when Daniel pulled his shirt off. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely carrying. His gaze found its way back to Daniel. “I didn’t mean to call you a slut.”

Daniel’s hands stilled at the waistband of his jeans. Then he continued undressing. “That’s not what I’m upset about.”

“I know.” Martin drew in a breath. “I’m sorry about that too.” When Daniel gave no indication that he’d heard him, his eyes fixed on the clothes he dumped on the arm of the couch, Martin took a step closer. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

It took only two steps and Daniel stood in front of him, black boxer briefs hugging his hips. His shoulders dropped an inch with his exhale. “You don’t have to. It was a bit of fun, right? You were horny. Maybe a little curious. It happens.”

“Not to me.” Martin swallowed. “I just want to forget it.”

Daniel’s eyes shut for longer than a blink, lips drawn inward. Slowly, he nodded. “Okay.” He took a step back. “Who’s stopping you?”

“You. Me. I don’t know...I—I think about it when I see you. The sounds you made, the things you said. The things _I_ said.” He tore his gaze from Daniel’s eyes and backed up into the door. 

But Daniel closed the distance between them. “Let me ask you something,” he said, voice low, eyes on Martin’s mouth, before finding his eyes again. “Did you like it?”

“I’m straight.” 

Daniel chuckled, a big smile stretching across his lips. “That’s not an answer.”

“I hadn’t had sex in six months.”

“That’s not an answer either.”

Martin placed his hand flat on Daniel’s chest as if to create the illusion of distance. “I liked it. But only because I was having sex with someone else for a change. Not just me and my hand.” His neck burned, palm tingling over Daniel’s skin. He lifted his hand off quickly before he did something stupid.

Daniel’s face drew nearer, his breath ghosting over Martin’s lips. “We could do it again. You had sex only last week. Can’t possibly be good this time then, right?” 

Martin’s fingers encircled Daniel’s wrist, hard enough to feel his pulse throbbing, his own heartbeat scrambling to follow. “Then we never mention it again.”

Daniel’s lips grazed Martin’s. “I promise.” His voice quiet as a breath.

Martin’s lips parted, the press of Daniel’s mouth harder. His hands clutched Daniel’s hips and he crushed his body into Daniel’s. Heat threaded through him. He pulled back, his fingertips still digging into Daniel’s skin. “To anyone.”


	8. Chapter Eight

Martin’s blood thrummed under his skin. Whatever tenuous control he thought he had over the situation was slipping. Daniel held all the cards. A shiver worked its way down Martin’s spine and Daniel grazed his teeth on Martin’s bottom lip. His right hand insinuated between them, burning Martin’s skin on its way down. “What—” Daniel’s fingers curled around the length of Martin’s cock through his mesh shorts, stealing the breath out of him. 

Tongue and teeth on his jaw. Under his ear. “You really want to talk?” Voice like silk, gliding over Martin’s senses. “Wouldn’t you rather I use my mouth for better things? Why talk when I could be sucking your cock?”

Unable to do much more than pant like a sex-starved dog, Martin grabbed Daniel’s head and shoved him downward. 

Daniel laughed, his breath tickling against Martin’s bare chest. “Just lie back and think of Slovakia,” he said, his smile goofy and warm as he drifted down Martin’s body. 

“Funny.” Martin’s voice was like sandpaper, coarse and grating to his own ears. He squirmed, his hard cock throbbing, every nerve begging for Daniel’s mouth on him. And still Daniel’s tongue swirled on Martin’s stomach, hands not touching anymore and Martin’s groan was as much one of frustration as it was of arousal. “Put your mouth on me.”

The blinding smile Martin received only registered for a moment, before his shorts and boxers were off and Daniel’s damp lips wrapped around his head. 

Martin let his head fall back against the rumpled pillow, hand resting on Daniel’s head. Daniel’s hand enveloped the base of his cock, languid strokes to meet his hot mouth and Martin exhaled, sharp and shallow. Martin threaded his fingers through Daniel’s hair and raised his head up again to watch Daniel’s head bob up and down. “The Mohawk’s perfect.” It was the only part of Daniel’s hair just long enough for Martin to grab on to. 

The coy laugh from Daniel’s busy mouth felt more like a hum around him, and Martin threw his head back again. 

Daniel’s hand jacked him faster, his mouth working harder, but still Daniel wouldn’t let him come. He kept going longer than anyone had for Martin. 

Detangling his hand from Daniel’s hair to keep from shoving his head down, Martin let out a moan. “Don’t stop.”

Daniel, ever the fucking tease, did stop. He grasped Martin’s nearly-bucking hips and sidled up his body. “Sorry, big guy,” he whispered in his ear. “But my jaw’s getting tired and I have no saliva left.”

Martin’s brain was no longer even in the equation. His actions never ran through his head before they happened. He caressed Daniel’s jaw with his thumb, pulled him down and arched up to press their lips together, despite the fact that Martin had never liked tasting himself on his partners.

Daniel was grinding against his stomach, and through the fabric of Daniel’s boxer briefs Martin could feel his hardness. Maybe it was good that Daniel had the reins at the moment, because suddenly, Martin’s hands were paralyzed. Stuck on Daniel’s neck. He thrust his tongue into Daniel’s mouth trying to distract until he could move his arms again. 

But Daniel shoved him back. “It’s okay,” he said, breathing heavy. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He chuckled, bent down and licked over Martin’s lips. “But if you want me to ride you, don’t be upset if I come on your chest.”

He rocked back and forth and as heat spread through Martin down to his toes, he grabbed Daniel’s hips to still him. “Ride me. I want you to come on my chest.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but he couldn’t think about anything _but_ Daniel riding him and he had to come somewhere. 

Mouthing at Martin’s neck, Daniel rubbed clammy hands up Martin’s chest, brushing over hard nipples. “Think you could lend me your fingers?” He breathed against the damp skin. “Do you want to work me open?”

Martin groaned and thrust upward desperate for friction. But it wasn’t enough. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of Daniel’s underwear. “Yeah. Let me.” 

By the time Martin had two fingers inside his tight heat, Daniel was in charge of that too. “Bend your fingers” he breathed. “Mm, yeah. That’s it.” His mouth was slack and his eyes shut. Face and chest flushed. 

Martin’s free hand roamed his thigh, his taut stomach and chest, his inked arms. He couldn’t stop touching him. Watching him. His fingers closed around Daniel’s hard cock and tugged once. Twice. Daniel’s groan sang in Martin’s veins. Their eyes locked.

 

 

As soon as Daniel eased himself off him and rolled over next to him on the bed, Martin left to take a shower. From the first spurts of cool come on his hot skin, he’d wanted it off. Even as he pounded into Daniel with abandon, muscles tensing as he came, somewhere in his mind he was envisioning the shower he’d take afterward. 

He was clean in two minutes, yet he stayed under the warm spray for another two, but the panic didn’t come. He had Daniel’s word that he’d never mention it again. Maybe that was enough to settle him. It wasn’t going to happen again either, so why be upset?

When he returned to the musky room, Daniel was flat on his stomach, poking his fingers into his eyes to remove his contacts. 

Martin collapsed next to him, not bothering with the covers now that he had boxers on. “What happened with the bouncer? I can’t remember the last time you were in a bar brawl.”

Daniel shrugged, casual and boneless. “He carded me.”

Martin huffed a laugh. Nudged his shoulder. “Liar.” His smile dimmed. Antonio had said the guy was huge. “You’re not stupid. And anyway, when you get in a fight it’s never about the other guy.”

“Floyd sold another shitty piece,” came the muffled reply. Daniel turned his head and grinned. “The bouncer really did card me, though.”


	9. Chapter Nine

Of course things didn’t go back to normal after that. Daniel seemed to be his old self again, casually flirting with him as if it didn’t make Martin wish for the time when that _was_ normal and Martin’s only response was to not react and just let him. It would have been so much easier, and Martin wouldn’t have to feel the heat spreading through his gut and his neck burn. Wouldn’t have to look at Daniel’s crooked smile and think about the fucking grin he sent him right before he went down on him. Or hear his voice and think about him sliding up and down on Martin’s cock, hands splayed over his chest, head back and eyes closed, moaning without hesitation. 

Fuck.

Martin wasn’t gay. There was nothing more to say about it. So if he jerked off one time in the shower thinking about Daniel’s mouth on him – because even that seemed safer than thinking about his cock buried in Daniel’s tight heat – it was a moment of weakness and nothing else. 

It was better when Daniel was moody. 

Martin was decidedly not thinking about any of this when he sat down on the floor with his back toward the couch where Daniel lay. 

“Tomorrow I pick up the pieces of my fractured dreams,” Daniel mumbled, turning onto his back.

The art show was over and Daniel hadn’t sold anything. “You’re being dramatic,” Martin said turning toward him, aiming for a reassuring smile. His fingers enclosed around Daniel’s wrist in an infinitely more confusing gesture, despite the fact that he’d resolved to touching Daniel as little as possible. Sometimes he couldn’t help himself. 

“I’m broke, homeless and a failure as an artist. I’m allowed to be dramatic.”

“You’ve been broke since I met you.” His smile widened. “You’re living on my couch. Granted, it’s not the Four Seasons, but I wouldn’t call you homeless. And you will make it. Just keep trying a little bit longer.”

One corner of Daniel’s mouth curved upwards. “Sometimes, I wish...” he said, voice as soft as the late-autumn sunlight that caressed his pale skin through the blinds. Only half-conscious of moving, Martin drifted toward him.

“Sometimes you wish what?” Still, he leaned closer. 

Daniel untangled his hand from Martin’s grasp, fingers brushing against Martin’s palm. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” His smile seemed genuine, if a bit a sad. His gaze landed on Martin’s plump lips and despite the warmth rolling through him, Martin broke away. Sat back on the floor again and turned his attention toward the TV. 

“Oh, hey. It’s bad 80’s action movie night. So many bad puns.” He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from rambling further. What the hell was wrong with him?

 

 

It happened twice after that. Daniel would do something or say something and Martin found himself drawn closer, as if Daniel was a black hole sucking him in. He’d feel warm all over, Daniel’s woodsy scent and quiet intake of breath pulling him closer still and something uncoiled in his gut, hot and tickling. But he never went through with it. He promised himself he wouldn’t. A little late, perhaps, considering how much he’d done already. Twice. But there had to be a way back.

Or when Martin walked out of the bedroom to find Daniel changing T-shirts out in the living room. He had to have been working out more recently. His biceps seemed bigger, his pecs hard and abs sculpted, and since when the fuck was Martin into muscles, even if they were Daniel’s? This was getting to be ridiculous. 

That night at work, Martin half-listened to Wendy going over the plans for Shorty’s Halloween party. 

“You’re not dressing as a soccer player again this year, are you?” Wendy said, her grin betraying her accusingly narrowed eyes. 

“Football,” Martin corrected, more out of habit than real objection, then shook his head. “No. I don’t know. Do I have to come as anything?”

“Yes,” she said with a gentle shake of her head. “It’ll be fun.”

Fun was more Daniel’s style, Martin preferred comfort above it. Not that comfort was high on the list of things Martin felt these days, which only made him all the more disinclined to dress up and pretend to have fun serving drinks to the same people who were in there most other nights. They probably wouldn’t bother with costumes either.

Wendy sighed. “What is up with you? You’ve been crabby all week.”

“Nothing’s up.” He tried for a smile, but left it at that.

 

 

Martin had his head in his wardrobe, digging through his stuff for something that could be considered a costume when the drag of Daniel’s feet on the laminate floor reached his ears. He turned around as Daniel threw himself on top of the small pile of clothes on the bed. 

He dug a belt buckle out from under his side. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to put together a Halloween costume for work tonight. I got a vaguely threatening text from Wendy about an hour ago.”

Daniel took one look at the clothes on the bed. Then sat up. “I have an idea,” he said and grabbed a pair of black jeans off the pile, his lips stretching over his perfect teeth in a full smile. “Yeah, definitely.” 

That was how Martin found himself sitting on the closed toilet in those jeans and a dark-grey T-shirt Daniel had cut holes in, with Daniel looming over him, painting his face. He gnawed and licked his lips periodically, so often that Martin’s gaze was fixed on them. Heat spread across his neck and Martin pressed his own lips together, trying to keep his reaction at bay. 

His pulse quickened when Daniel gripped the hem of his T-shirt. “What are you doing?” Even in a whisper, his voice betrayed him, his stare raking over Daniel’s body and lingering on his face. 

“I’m doing your bullet wounds.”

“What am I supposed to be?”

“The Ter—well, more like _a_ Terminator. But trust me, you just put on a pair of sunglasses and a leather jacket and there will be no mistaking it.”

He did look pretty cool, Martin decided inspecting himself in the mirror. The metal skeleton peeking out through one of his bloodied facial ‘wounds’ and the bullet holes in his chest. Maybe ‘fun’ wasn’t as constricting as Martin had convinced himself it was. 

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his shoulders back. Christ, the bathroom was cramped. Reminded of what had happened the last time they’d been in here together, Martin licked his lips. Daniel’s smell invaded his senses, heat radiating off him. Just half a step forward, and he’d be pressed right up against Daniel. Could do what he wanted. If he wanted. Fuck, he wanted.

“Just kiss me if you’re going to kiss me,” Daniel said and took that last half step, the warm timbre of his voice gliding over Martin’s body. 

Martin pulled himself free before he gave in yet again. Scratched the back of his neck, eyes cast down. “That’s easy for you to say.” Martin’s muscles stiffened at Daniel’s weary sigh. “What? It is. It’s different for you because you’re gay.”

“Agh, Martin.” The irritated groan had Martin setting his jaw. “Who cares who’s gay and who’s straight?”

Martin let his arms sag at his sides. “You don’t understand.”

“What? That you’re straight? Because I gotta tell you, Martin. I don’t care. If you want this, you want this. This towing the line ‘does he want me, doesn’t he?’ is driving me insane.” He swung the door open. “You’re either all in or you’re all out.”

“I’m out.” His voice was so quiet it barely carried in the small room. He cleared his throat and met Daniel’s eyes. “I’m out.”

Daniel flinched. 

“I’m sorry.” As soon as the words were out, they sounded horribly inadequate and Martin grimaced, awash with discomfort.


	10. Chapter Ten

Barely a day later, winter arrived in all its icy glory. It seemed fitting that the world would turn cold to match the atmosphere at Martin’s place. Daniel had said maybe three sentences to him since the night before and Martin had no idea what to say to him either. 

He made himself a sandwich for an afternoon snack and plopped down on the couch. Daniel stood up, grabbed his jacket. 

Martin looked up. Watched him zip his jacket up. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” 

“Okay,” Martin said. “You know when you’ll be back? I’m not working tonight, so I thought maybe we could order pizza, watch something funny?” He tried for a smile, but barely felt his cheeks move.

Daniel shrugged. “Don’t know. I need to use the studio while I can.”

Martin sat up, the plate wobbling in his lap. “What do you mean? What’s happening to the studio?”

With a huff, Daniel relaxed his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. You just order your pizza and watch something funny. I’ll be back when I’ll be back.” He strode down the hall, out of sight. Half a minute later, the front door opened and shut. He was gone.

Almost an hour later, Martin’s mind was still going over the conversation. Daniel had said more than he had that whole day, but what he said made little sense. If he gave up the studio, where was he going to paint? Not here; there wasn’t enough light. If somewhere else, then where? And why?

The wind howled outside, blowing snow back and forth. He could barely see four feet out the window. As much as Martin hated confrontation, this silent cold between them was worse. He grabbed his winter coat and jogged down to hail a cab. Daniel’s studio wasn’t far, but he didn’t feel like walking in this weather. 

Once he got there, he walked right in, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Daniel hadn’t heard him come in, standing in jeans and a paint-stained T-shirt, a brush clutched in one hand, his eyes on the canvas in front of him. 

The painting was exquisite in all its muted colors. A close-up of a roof of a house in the middle of nowhere, a child’s bare feet visible off the side. “Wow,” Martin said. “That’s depressing.”

“Yeah, thanks. Not what I was going for.”

Martin winced. It was true, though, the painting filled him with melancholy. Or maybe it wasn’t just the painting. “Sorry. You know I don’t know shit about art.”

Daniel threw the brush onto the spotty table near the space heater. “What are you doing here?”

“I was thinking about what you said. About the studio. And I think we should talk. I didn’t mean to say it like I did last night, but it’s true. I’m straight, Daniel.”

“I don’t give a fuck. So you’re straight, congratulations. Feel like a man?” His voice was low, dangerous. 

“That’s not what this is about—”

“You don’t want to be with me because I’m a man. It has nothing to do with you not wanting me. I know you do. So either you’re just a plain old fucking coward who cares too much what people think of him or you think being with another man makes you less of one.”

Martin shook his head. Rubbed his lips together. “That’s not true. It’s not about what people think. And I don’t think being with a man makes anybody less of one.” He swallowed. “And I do want you.”

Daniel’s eyes shot up.

“But I want a family. A wife and kids, and maybe a little house out in the suburbs. I’d leave the bartending and use my degree for something useful. I’d bring my wife whatever pregnancy cravings she wanted, stroke her stomach, massage her feet. I would spoil my kids on their birthdays. Help them with their homework while their mother made dinner.” It was a little surprising Daniel had let him babble for that long without interrupting. “And as much as I want you, I can’t have that with you.” 

“I didn’t know you were so traditional,” Daniel said, voice quiet, eyes on the floor. 

Martin nodded. “I am. We’re still friends, though. In that whole scenario, I can’t imagine it without you somewhere in my life. But friendship is all I can offer you.”

Daniel shook his head, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “It was hard enough being your friend before... I don’t know if I can do it now.”

Martin took a step closer, leant forward. “What are you talking about?”

In less than three seconds, Daniel grabbed a can of paint off table and threw it at the canvas. “God, Martin! How can you not know?”

Rust-red paint dripped to the floor, half the painting covered in it. Martin stared at the ruins. Blinked as he wrapped his head around it. Daniel wasn’t looking at him, tossing things off the table and onto the paint-splattered drop cloth to the side of it. 

“Tell me.”

“No. I don’t want your fucking pity.” He waved him off, didn’t meet his eyes. “So go on. Find your wife and have your kids. Have your perfect little suburban life together. I’ll settle for some jerk who doesn’t give two shits about me.”

Martin’s muscles tensed, something hot uncoiling in his veins. “You can’t make me feel guilty for wanting the things I do. That’s really fucking selfish of you.”

“If you get what you want, I can’t get what I want. I’m not sorry for being unhappy about it. Go. I don’t want you here.”

Martin stared for a moment but when Daniel didn’t say another word, he moved toward the door. “You’d rather I be unhappy if it meant you’d get what you want?” Daniel looked up but didn’t reply. “Because I’d never wish that on you.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

The day Martin overheard Daniel talking on the phone, telling someone he was not renewing the lease on his studio, was the day Martin started to miss him even though he was still there. There was only one reason he’d give it up and that was to get out of Martin’s apartment. If Daniel moved out, their decade of friendship would likely be over, and Martin realized how empty his life would be without Daniel in it.

But it was even worse when things were almost normal. When Daniel stopped by at the bar, and Martin bought him a beer and they spent the evening talking and laughing. When they watched a movie Martin picked and Daniel groaned about every shoddy work from the film’s art department, like he always had. When they ordered Chinese or Thai and ended up eating half their own orders and half the other’s.

It was awkward as well, Martin knew now what Daniel really wanted from him, the depth of his feelings for him that he just wasn’t able to return. When they passed each other in the hallway and Daniel’s woodsy smell lingered in Martin’s senses. When the heating broke down, and they ended up huddled together for warmth in Martin’s bed. That had been uncomfortable, really. Martin had warmed Daniel’s feet between his, pressed against his back. And Daniel had relaxed against him with a small sigh, like he was imagining this was how life could be.

The worst was when Daniel – slightly drunk and unusually agreeable – admitted that he only fucked Kelly as a substitute for Martin. And that it sometimes worked. Martin couldn’t get that from his mind. That he’d been so big a miss in Daniel’s life that he needed to be substituted. That Daniel might’ve been thinking about him while with Kels, that he might’ve come with _his_ name on his lips and Kels would never have been any the wiser. The knowledge was driving him crazy. 

After a week, he needed a distraction. When Daniel came home from the diner, Martin suggested hitting Shorty’s for a couple of beers. Daniel agreed but from just a look Martin could tell he was in a mood. 

The worst of the weather had passed, but it was still cold and snowy outside. 

At Shorty’s they didn’t start to talk until they were halfway through their first pint, and even then it wasn’t as easy as it used to be between them. After their second beer of the night, the conversation took an unpleasant turn.

“What’s this about you giving up the studio?” Martin said, deceptively conversational, taking a quick sip to keep any facial expression at bay. 

Daniel breathed out, loud enough that Martin could hear it over the soft hum of music and people talking in the background. “What difference does it make? I’m not getting anywhere with my art and this way I can get away from you sooner.”

“So that’s the goal? To get away from me?” He couldn’t keep the bitter edge from his voice.

Daniel stood up with cutting abruptness. “You want me to leave you to live your life the way you want? Then you need to let me live mine. I can’t do that unless I leave.” As if to punctuate that last point he walked away and disappeared somewhere behind the group of girls that had come in about half an hour earlier.

Unsure what to make of this turn of events, Martin decided to leave him be. Wendy – who was manning the bar though it was meant to be her night off as well as his – brought him another beer, unasked, and Martin tried to unwind and forget about it for the time being. 

Barely a minute later, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around and it took him a few seconds to recognize the woman standing in front of him, smiling tentatively. “Stacy. Hey.” He hadn’t seen her since the evening of their failed attempt at a one-night stand when the seeds of this whole mess with Daniel had been sown. 

Her smile brightened. “Hi. I’m here with some friends, do you want to sit with us?”

A polite ‘no’ was on the tip of his tongue, when he thought ‘why not?’ Daniel was going to leave him and get over him, no doubt by getting under somebody else. He mustered a smile. “Sure, thanks.”

Just after he was introduced to Tiffany and Rita, Daniel came strolling by.

“Daniel,” Stacy said, and Martin was impressed she not only remembered them both but their names as well. “We thought Martin was alone, so we dragged him over. Have a seat. Do you want something to drink? It’s on me.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Daniel said dryly, taking a seat opposite Martin. 

Stacy frowned and as Martin got up to let Stacy out of the booth, he shot daggers in Daniel’s direction. 

“What would you like? A beer? Tap all right?”

“Sure. Whatever pisswater they’re serving is fine.”

Stacy’s brow pinched, whether in confusion or irritation Martin couldn’t tell, but she nodded and went to the bar despite it. 

Martin leveled Daniel with an incredulous look. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Daniel hummed, nodding.

“Well, stop it.” He turned toward the women again in an attempt to stop Daniel from replying. “Sorry. Roommate issues. You were saying...?”

The drinks kept coming and they spent the bulk of the evening talking. Except Daniel, who alternately ignored everyone and glared at Stacy. She leant on Martin’s arm, always touching him and didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by Daniel’s narrowed eyes being directed her way. 

Somehow, as it often does when spending an evening drinking, the subject turned to sex. Rita turned toward Daniel, oblivious that her flirting was having no effect on him. She gave him a coy smile and Martin wouldn’t have been surprised if she were trying to play footsie with him under the table. “How about you? You must be a lady-killer.” 

The snort of laughter left him before he could check himself. “Wrong gender. Quite the gentlemen-killer, though. What is it now? Half the guys in the tri state area?” Once it was out, he wished he could take it back. 

Daniel turned dark eyes his way. “You’re hilarious. Feeling a little intimidated? With your track record of nine women... and one man.”

Martin’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. His shock soon turned to anger, but before he could respond, Daniel had already stood up and marched toward the men’s room. 

“It’s not like it sounds,” he told Stacy, getting up, intent on following Daniel. 

“Lots of people have experimented,” she said, then paused, her eyes still fixed on his face as if trying to read him. “It was a long time ago, right?”

“Yeah, ages ago.” He glanced at the door to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

He’d barely made it inside when he rounded on Daniel. “You had no right to tell her. I can’t believe you went back on your word.”

Despite being crowded against the wall, the closeness between them more of an aggressive than sexual nature, he didn’t back down. “I thought you didn’t care what people thought.” His eyes were glassy and they’d both had too much to drink to be having this talk.

“I said I’d never think less of a man for being with another one. Not everyone feels the same way. Even if I said I didn’t care, that doesn’t give you the right to blab to anyone about it.” His voice echoed off the walls, and he briefly thought he should try and control the volume, but Daniel’s word still sounded in his head. ‘Nine women... and one man’. “I never knew you were so malicious and petty.”

Daniel worried his bottom lip between his teeth and said nothing for a long moment. He released a breath. “I know. I just can’t stand watching her with her hands all over you, practically sitting in your lap, batting her eyes at you every two seconds. _I_ want you.”

“I know.” Martin’s voice came out softer. Daniel’s eyes were cast down and his shoulders hunched and Martin found himself feeling sorry for him in place of the anger that had simmered there a moment before. 

Daniel lifted his gaze and sidled closer. “And I know you want me too.” His mouth hovered over Martin’s.

And Martin really was too drunk. Heat spread throughout him and he leant closer, his lips barely an inch from Daniel’s. “I do. I want you.”

“You can have me.” His lips brushed over Martin’s, barely an appetizer, just enough to have Martin craving more. Their bodies crushed together as if of their own volition and Martin grabbed Daniel, shoving him against the wall, their mouths fusing together.

Daniel’s hands ran down his back, then his stomach when he could wedge them between them. And finally, he palmed him through his jeans and Martin panted into the messy kiss, his cock hardening under the touch.

“You can have me,” Daniel repeated quietly through heavy breaths, lips still pressing on Martin’s. “Forget about Stacy.”

Martin snapped out of the haze that had filled his mind and took a step back, his common sense returning to him. “I can’t keep having flings that don’t go anywhere.”

Daniel scoffed. “And what’s Stacy? Your future wife and mother of your children? Do you know how few one night stands end up that way?”

“At least with her there’s that possibility.”

Daniel’s wrenched his clenched mouth open. “And not with me? I love kids and I realize you’re not going to knock me up, but there’s other options. I like living in the city, but I wouldn’t mind the suburbs. You’ve heard of gay marriage, right? It’s legal in many places, including this one. I’d marry you. I love you.”

Martin pursed his lips and shook his head. “It’s not the life I envisioned.”

“Fuck you then,” Daniel all but spat. “It’s everything you want, except I’m not a woman.” He didn’t spare Martin a second look as he stormed out of there. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Martin leaned over the sink and tried to think. He took a deep breath and looked at his reflection. Why was it that every time he thought he had a handle on this, something happened that made everything worse? It shouldn’t be so hard to turn Daniel down. 

Still confused, he dragged himself back out of the men’s room and was on his way out when he was intercepted by Stacy. “Bad fight?” She said.

He shrugged. “We shouldn’t try and talk about serious stuff halfway down the bottle.” Her hand rested on his arm and he looked down on it as if it were an alien object.

“Do you want to come back to my place? We can talk.”

He found himself nodding, despite not really wanting to. They made it outside where she kissed him. Pressed against him, she didn’t feel anything like Daniel. Instead of the warm woodsy scent, she smelled sweet and sugary and her mouth felt nothing like Daniel’s under his. 

Martin broke the kiss and the look on her face told him she knew what was coming. Maybe she’d felt his unenthusiastic response. “It’s not you,” he said, and for once the old cliché was true. “It’s me.”

“Fine,” she said and stepped up to the curb and hailed a cab. She was gone before he could apologize.

Martin walked home in the biting cold, wondering what this all meant.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in throwing this up here. I fell head first into another fandom, a certain pairing in it, and after scouring the internet from one end to the next, found but 1 (unfinished, probably never to be finished) good fic for that pairing (and they hadn't even so much as kissed yet). So sad.
> 
> But anyway, unfortunately haven't made headway on Birthright for those that are following that, but not to worry I shall finish it all the same.

Martin had sobered up somewhat on his cold walk home, but when he walked into his bedroom it still took him a moment to realize that Daniel was lying in his bed. 

His sweatshirt unzipped and his jeans halfway down his thighs, Martin remembered he had the keys. “How’d you get in?”

“The super gave me a copy of your keys a couple of weeks ago.” The lights were off, but Martin’s eyes were adjusting and he could just about make out Daniel’s face in the dark. “Pretty sure he thinks we’re together.” 

Martin couldn’t deny his discomfort at the notion that the 50-year-old super thought they were a couple. 

But as Martin stripped down to his boxers and half-collapsed on top of the covers, Daniel changed the subject. “What happened with Stacy?” he said, voice quieter and the goading that had been present half the night was gone.

Martin debated not telling him. If he didn’t know what it meant, then he probably shouldn’t risk Daniel misreading it. He reached his hand out and brushed his fingers down Daniel’s arm. “She’s not you.” The alcohol still flowing through his veins had loosened his tongue.

The seconds ticked by and the silence stretched between them. Daniel shifted and turned toward Martin, their eyes meeting. “Do you love me?”

“I don’t know.” Martin’s thumb swept over Daniel’s jaw.

Daniel’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You can’t keep your hands off me.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I know.” His lips inched closer to Daniel’s and his voice dropped to a murmur. “But I don’t know if it’s because I want you for real or because I know it’s good with you.” What he really needed was for it to be bad. Then he might just snap out of it.

Their lips brushed together. 

Daniel’s stretched into a smile. “Oh, really?” He kissed back when Martin’s mouth found his again, then moved onto his neck. “What do you like best about fucking me?” His breath tickled the wet spot he’d just licked along Martin’s throat and despite the warm pool in Martin’s gut a shiver ran through him.

“Jesus,” Martin half-moaned, his cock hardening. The grip he had on Daniel’s upper arm tightened. “How do you always do that?” Daniel’s voice went deep and husky and it shouldn’t turned Martin on but it did. “I like how much you love sex.” He felt the grin once more against his skin. This time just above his nipple. “And you give great head.”

The throaty laugh that left Daniel had Martin smiling as well. 

It was too easy to get lost in the feel of Daniel’s open mouthed descent down his body. He clamped his mouth shut and vowed not to say anything more. Maybe Daniel had no idea what he was doing or maybe this was his plan all along. Either way, Martin didn’t like it. 

But the sloppy blow-job that followed soon after nearly wiped the thought from his head. There was no way this wasn’t going to be good. Then he felt something new.

Daniel’s finger trailed down the cleft of Martin’s ass. He didn’t try and force it inside, but it would have put the damper Martin was looking for on things. That wasn’t a suggestion he could make out loud, though, no matter how drunk he was. 

But Daniel was bolder than Martin thought. He wasn’t sober either so maybe it had slipped his mind that they hadn’t done this before. They hadn’t even talked about it. The wet finger slipped inside. Weird was the only word for how it felt. 

It didn’t hurt; it just felt like it shouldn’t be there. 

Daniel replaced his mouth on Martin’s cock with his hand. “Martin?” he said, finger still knuckle-deep in Martin’s ass. “I want to fuck you,” he said and even if Martin hadn’t already decided this was just the kind of bad he was looking for, the low pitch and piercing eyes would’ve made him agree.

Thank God he wasn’t sober. He nodded and his voice came out in a whisper. “Okay.”

“Okay?” If it wasn’t rhetorical, Daniel didn’t give him a chance to respond before stealing a couple of kisses. He hovered over Martin for a moment, then nudged him gently. “Roll over.”

Martin’s mouth went dry, but he complied. He could feel his muscles tensing. 

Daniel kissed his back. “Try to relax.” He rummaged through the nightstand for the lube and a condom and Martin squeezed his eyes shut and breathed. “God, you’re fucking perfect,” he mumbled into Martin’s skin, mouth making its way down Martin’s spine.

His finger brushed over Martin’s hole. Time and again until Martin lost count and his muscles yielded. Then it slid inside. Martin breathed out, that strange feeling returning and Daniel oh-so-slowly moved his finger. And gradually picked up the pace. 

The second one joined the first and Daniel’s rhythm almost slowed to a stop. It still didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t exactly thrilling either. When Daniel forced the third digit inside, the first stab of pain shot through Martin. He bit back a groan, turning it into a harsh exhale instead. 

“You all right?” Daniel said. 

“Yeah.” It came out as even as he could make it. 

But he couldn’t keep his reaction at bay when Daniel pushed the tip of his cock inside. It burned like all hell. Martin went rigid, crumpling a fistful of the sheets under his hands. One pained grunt after another escaped him as Daniel sank the whole way in. He was barely even aware of Daniel’s fingers trailing up and down his thigh until the pain started to subside. His cock had gone completely limp.

Hyperaware of the hard dick inside him, Martin couldn’t will his muscles to unclench. 

But Daniel stayed still. He brushed his hand down Martin’s back and soon enough Martin relaxed. 

Slowly, Daniel began to move.

It was painful, but nowhere near how much it had been a moment before. Still, either they were doing it wrong somehow or Martin really was right and he wouldn’t get any pleasure out of bottoming. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Daniel said, slightly out of breath. 

Martin hadn’t even considered that. Of course Daniel would want this. His feelings were real. But Martin had been fixated on how this might rid him of his problem. By curing himself of this lust, Martin probably made it worse for Daniel. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into his bicep. 

Daniel stilled. “What for?”

He almost told him, but the words wouldn’t come. “Nothing.” With Daniel’s next thrust, Martin felt something. Something good. His cock twitched. “Could you go a little slower?”

But going slower felt good too. His hard-on was back and Daniel’s pace increased. Martin tried to resist it, but with every push inside a pulse of pleasure washed over Martin and before he knew it, he had his hand wrapped around his cock. 

Daniel panted quietly and Martin couldn’t keep the moans to himself. One hand tangled further in the sheets and the other started to stroke his cock. His voice sounded wrecked. “I’m almost there.” His lips were moving of their own accord. “So close.”

The grasp on his hips tightened and Daniel might have said something in between the shallow breaths, but as the first wave of Martin’s orgasm hit him, he couldn’t hear anything but his own groans and the slick sound of Daniel’s thrusts. 

Daniel came shortly after. Martin rode it out, then all but collapsed when Daniel finally pulled out. He greedily sucked in air and closed his eyes. Ears picking up Daniel’s footsteps, but too boneless and sore to move, he had a last thought before he fell asleep. 

Well, shit. That wasn’t half bad.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The next morning, after cleaning up and eating breakfast, Martin paused in the doorway to the bathroom watching Daniel poke his contacts into his eyes. They hadn’t said a word about the night before and Martin wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I feel weird,” he said, catching Daniel’s eye in the mirror. “I feel weird that I don’t feel weird, you know?”

“No.” He smiled, though, before jabbing the other contact in the other eye. 

He was sore from last night still, but aside from that, there wasn’t much else he felt about it. “I’m not like you,” Martin said and could see the way Daniel’s shoulders tensed just a bit. 

“What do you mean?” His voice was level, though. 

“I deny myself things I know won’t do me good in the long run. Which is why I don’t know how I got here. How we got here. I don’t thrive on fighting and fucking and feeling. And I rarely let what I feel dictate what I do. Only with you, I do.” He shook his head, because he’d never thought about this before, but now that he was it was so obvious. “Not just now, but always. You know I got my business degree because it’s what my parents expected? I didn’t want a career in it and when I got the job offers, you said to me that I could do whatever I wanted, just make sure it was what I wanted. You remember that?”

Daniel nodded. 

“So I took the bartending job, not because that’s the career I wanted, but I just knew business _wasn’t_ the career I wanted. Dad exploded, mom was disappointed, but for the first time in a long while I did something for me.”

“Yeah. Where are you going with this?”

“I don’t know what I want now. I don’t. And it’s not because of what’s expected of me. It’s me. And it’s you.”

“You know where I stand.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just... Your highs are so high and your lows are so low. And I cruise along the middle. Sometimes a little higher, sometimes a little lower, but nothing like you.”

His contacts now in, Daniel turned around. “What are you saying?”

“I feel like I’d lose myself with you. Then sometimes I think it’s a ‘self’ that’s okay to lose. But it scares me.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m not going to force you to choose this. I haven’t exactly been graceful about the prospect but if you really want out, there’s nothing I can say or do that will change that.” He walked closer but kept his hands to himself. “Let me ask you something and answer me honestly. Leaving aside worries about losing yourself... do you want to be with me?”

Pursing his lips and averting his gaze, Martin shook his head. “I don’t know, Daniel. Maybe I’ll never know.” He sighed, shoulders sagging. “Haven’t you ever pictured what your life is going to be like?”

Daniel nodded. “Of course I have, but it’s just fantasy. Real life is both better and worse. Do you think ten years ago I imagined I’d still be single, broke, worthless as an artist and _still_ in love with you by the time I hit thirty?”

“Probably not.”

“No. But I also couldn’t have imagined the feeling I get when I finish a painting I think is good. Or imagined how good it feels to love you even when I know you’re not sure ab—”

The rest of his sentence was muffled by Martin’s mouth on his. 

“I have imagined that a few times though. It’s never even close to the real thing,” Daniel said when they parted, his hands placed loosely on Martin’s shoulders. “But you’ve got to stop kissing me if you don’t mean it.”

Martin bit his lip. “I know. And I promise I will. I need a little time to think.” He swallowed. “Alone.” He winced, anticipating backlash, but there was none.

Daniel even smiled. “I figured you’d need your space sooner or later. I can crash at Kels’ for a few days.” He removed his hands from Martin’s shoulders and was about to squeeze past him in the doorway, when Martin grasped his arm briefly.

“But you won’t— I mean, you and Kels— There’s no way to put this that won’t make me sound like an asshole.”

With a smirk, Daniel walked backwards. “Don’t worry; I know you’re an asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to leave a note at the end of the last chapter, but I'm afraid I'll forget. At any rate, I just wanted to say that while all of this (aside from a part before the end in the last chapter) was written about 4-5 years ago, and as I reread it the other day before posting I liked it well enough to post, I feel the latter part (last 3 chapters at least) veer a little closer to melodrama than I'd have liked and the ending is not the best. Still since I'd spent all this time writing it and had it on hand still, and parts of it I thought were quite good, I figured I'd post it just as it always was.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

A few days turned into a week, which then stretched into the next week. Martin hadn’t spoken to Daniel and hadn’t come to any decision about what he was going to do. What surprised him, though, was that Daniel hadn’t tried to contact him either. 

Wendy had been keeping an eye on him at work. He didn’t think he was particularly down, but somehow she’d sensed that something was up. “I was thinking, this weekend we could check out that new club that opened. Larry mentioned wanting to go and I could invite a girlfriend?”

Martin shook his head. “No.”

“No, you’re not going or no don’t bring a girlfriend?”

Sitting around at home hadn’t helped him decide. Maybe he just needed not to think about it for a night or two. “I’ll go. Just you and Larry, though?”

She nodded and smiled. “Where’s Daniel these days? I haven’t seen him in here for a while.”

Of course he wasn’t getting away from it all so easily. “He’s staying with another friend of his for a few days.” Or weeks, but who was counting? Apparently not Daniel.

Wendy laughed. “Why do you say the word ‘friend’ like it offends you?”

“I don’t know if I’d technically call them ‘friends’,” Martin said, wiping up a non-existent spill to not have to look at her. “They hook up sometimes.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” Martin had to physically stop himself from pouting like a four-year-old. “I just wouldn’t exactly call them friends.” He resisted the urge to squirm when Wendy gave him an appraising look, but she thankfully didn’t say anything else about it. Focused on their work instead.

 

 

This was stupid. It was incredibly stupid and Martin should be shot. Going to the diner just to see Daniel when he didn’t even know if he’d be working and more importantly had no idea what he was going to say to him. He hadn’t decided on anything. He just wanted to see him. 

So stupid. 

He pushed open the door and there he was. Half-leant on the table with a big pearly smile. The desire to trace his freckles with the pad of his fingers seized Martin. God, Martin missed him. The woman sitting at the counter giggled – an actual schoolgirl-like giggle – and Daniel winked, rising to a normal stance. 

Martin sat his ass down a couple of seats from her. “Jesus.” Conflicting things thrummed inside him – this was even stupider, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “You flirt with _everyone_.”

“Martin,” Daniel said, looking only half-amused. “Nice to see you too.”

Martin couldn’t look at him, longing to feel his pink mouth under his again. So he turned toward the woman. “You know he’s gay, right?” He tried to make it sound like teasing, but failed miserably.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Mart. It’s not like that’s a personal thing I don’t actually feel compelled to share with complete strangers. What are you even doing here?”

Half the annoyance flooding through Martin was actually directed at himself – a silent mantra of _stop it, stop it now_ running through his head – but something drove him to continue digging his grave. “Thought we could talk, but guess not.” The stool dragged against the floor as he got up and walked out as quickly as he’d walked in. 

What the hell was he thinking? He almost turned back barely two steps out the door. But willed himself to keep walking. There was something seriously wrong with him. Acting like a jealous bastard when there was no reason to. They weren’t together. And it’s not like flirting ever meant anything. Except it had with them. And he’d missed it. Had missed Daniel. 

Just inside the door at home, he grabbed his phone and fired off a text message to Daniel.

> _I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me._

It took a few minutes for him to get a reply. By then Martin was parked on the sofa channel-surfing, pointedly not looking at his phone.

> _Jealousy? Not that you’d have much to be jealous about. Do you think I’d wait for you for ten fucking years only to throw it away before you even make up your mind?_

It didn’t sound particularly forgiving, but Martin supposed Daniel could’ve been angrier about it as well. He really didn’t have a reply to that, though, so he just sent him another ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ and left it at that. It came as no surprise that Daniel didn’t reply to that, but that didn’t make things better. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

When the weekend rolled around, Martin wasn’t feeling up to clubbing. He went anyway. Partly because he’d told Wendy he would and partly because Daniel still hadn’t called. Which was a stupid thought, because Martin still hadn’t decided if he could do this. But God, he missed Daniel.

The club was thumping, just like any other club. He had to strain to hear Larry when he asked Martin if he wanted a beer. 

It was as far from Martin’s scene as anything could be. He was much more of the neighborhood pub type, or even just a couple of friends at home type. But it was a distraction. 

Although, maybe a distraction wasn’t what he needed. It almost felt silly now. The wife, the kids, the suburban house. Some fantasy future he wasn’t sure he’d ever have at the cost of one of his closest friends? Then again, it didn’t seem fair that Daniel would walk out on their decade of friendship because Martin couldn’t see a way to reconcile the image of what his life could be with the image of what his life would be with Daniel.

He needed a drink. 

Just then, Larry brought him one. Martin drank a third while they circled the edge of the dance floor looking for an open table. 

Another third disappeared within ten minutes of sitting down. 

Wendy eyed him with a sad little half-smile. “What’s going on with you, Martin? I haven’t seen you drink like that in ages.”

For a second, he wanted to tell her. That he was sort of involved with Daniel, that Daniel loved him, but Martin was conflicted. But then Larry took a sip of his drink, and Martin couldn’t go through with it. Instead, he shrugged. “Nothing’s going on.”

Wendy’s eyes narrowed, the green neon light of the club making her look eerie. “Larry, why don’t you go dance? I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Larry kissed her cheek and headed out to the dance floor. 

Martin’s eyes followed him, if only to avoid Wendy’s thoughtful gaze as long as possible.

“Now,” she said. “What’s really going on? And I know it’s not nothing.”

Martin half-shrugged, fingertips picking at the label of his beer. “It’s really no big deal. I’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

With a sigh, Martin took the plunge. “It’s Daniel. I’ve... We’ve... It’s a long story and kind of complicated. And I really don’t want to talk about this. Especially not here.” He kept his eyes on the half-peeled off label.

“If it’s bothering you this much, maybe you should talk about it.”

He shook his head. “I can’t talk about it.”  
“Would it help if I said I think I know what you’re not talking about?”

Whatever unease he might’ve felt at the that didn’t have time to materialize as he downed the rest of his beer, refusing to meet Wendy’s eyes. 

“Martin,” Wendy said. “Regardless of whatever went on between you and Daniel, do you ever think maybe you hold him to a different standard?”

He could feel his brow furrow. “What are you talking about?”

“When he first moved onto your couch, instead of making copies of your keys, you shared your pair. If I’d needed a place to stay for a few weeks, I’m certain you’d have made me copies. You talk about his casual friend like it physically hurts you that they hook up, while I can slip in details of my sex life like it’s nothing. You even said at one point that he didn’t count because he’s gay. I know you’ve been friends for a long time, but maybe you’re not as open-minded as you think.” She reached for his hand to soften the blow. 

Martin couldn’t bite back his laugh. 

Wendy withdrew her hand, brow furrowing. “What is so funny?”

“I’m not open-minded?” he said. “How many straight guys do you know that have had sex with men?”

“None,” she said, confusion coloring her voice.

Martin shook his head and pointed to himself, but his merriment was over.

It took but a moment for her to put the pieces together. “With Daniel?” 

He nodded. 

“Oh. Now you _must_ talk to me. How did that happen? When did it happen?”

“I don’t know. Look, I’m straight, I am. Which is why this is so hard.”

“You don’t want to hurt him.”

“I already hurt him. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s just on the one hand, I want to get married, settle down in the suburbs and have a couple of kids... with a woman. On the other hand, Daniel would give me those things in a heartbeat. But he’s not a woman.”

Wendy took his hand again. “If it’s not what you want--”

“I don’t know that it’s not. But I don’t know that it is either. Even if I’m leaning one way now, maybe in six months I’ll want the other.”

“I’ve never known you to be fickle. But even if that’s what scares you, why does choosing one now have to be what you want six months from now? You could go with your heart or your gut and see what happens.” When Martin cast his head down, eying her skeptically, she chuckled. “If you weren’t faced with this choice now and met a woman tonight, would your thoughts be along the same lines? ‘Can I commit to her for life?’ ‘Would she like the suburbs?’ ‘How many kids does she want?’”

His lips stretched into a smile. Why hadn’t he talked to Wendy days ago? “No.” 

“Then why do you have to now? If you want to be with Daniel, be with Daniel. Maybe you’ll break up in six months or six years or maybe you won’t break up at all.”

The smile stretched wider. “Why didn’t I tell you this sooner?”

She grinned. “I don’t know. What are you going to do?”

He stood up. “Call Daniel.”

> _‘Hi, this is Daniel. Send me a text. I never check my voicemail.’_

Martin threw the phone onto the couch cushion next to where he sat. Six times he’d tried to call him in the last two days. Texting him didn’t work either. If Martin wanted to talk to Daniel, he was going to have to do it in person.

That meant going to the diner and hoping Daniel was working. Barring that, he’d have to track down where Kels lived.

He grabbed his keys off the coffee table and jogged out the door. 

 

Traffic was murder and the twenty minute trip took almost an hour. The cabbie tried to converse with him but gave up at Martin’s one-note answers. Afterward, Martin groaned to himself more times in that hour than he had in the entire thirty years of his life until then. 

His heart pounded steadily in his chest as he entered the diner. 

Daniel wasn’t there. 

Wallowing in defeat for a good minute, Martin took a seat. Tracking down Kels to find Daniel had sounded all well and good when Martin had been expected to find Daniel at work, but in practice he didn’t even know where to start.

“Can I get you anything?”

Martin looked up into the face of an older woman with a tight smile. Maybe he didn’t need to find Kels at all. “Hi. Do you know when Daniel’s working next?”

“His shift starts in ten minutes.”

“Mind if I wait for him?”

“Not at all.”

The clock ticked slowly. What was Martin going to say anyway? He hadn’t planned what he was going to say beyond ‘I’m sorry’, but ‘sorry’ wasn’t going to cut it. 

Could he really ambush Daniel at work and... what? Tell him he wanted to try? Too tepid. Tell him he wanted him? Too ambiguous. Tell him he loved him? Too much for Martin. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Martin startled and stood up. “I’m here to explain.” When Daniel was silent, Martin continued. “I’m not gay. Or even bi—”

“Then wh—”

“Ssh. No. Listen.” Daniel set his jaw but said nothing. Martin barreled on. “I like women. I like soft curves and smooth skin and how everything just seems to fit. You’re all sharp angles and lean muscle and you’re too tall. You’re stubborn and moody and you’re completely impossible sometimes.”

Daniel opened his mouth.

“I’m not finished,” Martin said. “You’re fun. You’re talented. Creative, intense. Passionate. But I’m not in love with you because you’re a man. I’m in love with you despite that.”

For an endless moment Daniel just stared at him, shoulders still held back, body still angled away from him. “Yeah, well, I’m sick of being treated like a dirty little secret. I don’t want a boyfriend who wants to hide me. I was always Antonio’s ‘friend’ and I don’t want to be your ‘friend’ too.”

“I don’t want you to just be my friend. And I don’t want to hide you.” He stepped closer. And closer, until he was standing right in front of Daniel. “I mean you’re one of my favorite people in the world.”

Daniel’s leaned his body inward, toward Martin. “Only one of your favorite people?”

Martin inched closer, eyes falling to Daniel’s pink lips. His hands wound themselves in Daniel’s soft hair. 

“People are going to see.” His whisper blew across Martin’s lips.

“I know.” His eyes closed and his lips finally met Daniel’s.


End file.
